What happened next?
by Puff the Magic Dragon567
Summary: A collection of drabbles, well slightly longer than drabbles, for certain characters of the series. Cery: Guys like me are few, we live through deceit, we prey on trust, and we miss out on love. Akkarin: Even the bravest have fears.
1. Cery: Guys Like Me

**A/n: **I wrote this collection of drabbles almost as soon as I'd finished _The High Lord_ as a bit of closure...Spoiler warnings...and I obviously do not own rights to this series of books. First up, Cery.

I re-read these drabbles and found a few things that I want to tweak...Hopefully this'll work.

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**Cery – Guys Like Me.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary:** Guys like me are few, we live through deceit, we prey on trust, and we miss out on love.

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Guys like me; we're different from the rest.

Our lives aren't built on hope and faith like the rest of those dwells; we know where we stand. We thrive on fear - other people's fear.

I have often wondered why - as I stare coldly into the overflowing eyes of many a filthy squib, in the brief moments before I kill – if this was the right path to walk. Yet always I come to the conclusion that I'm better off this way.

I didn't place myself in these shoes. You could say that I'm just a victim of circumstances, but that's not entirely true.

I don't have time for boredom anymore, those youthful days passed in gentle tedium seem a breeze now, and oh so far away.

Placing the empty mug firmly on the bar, I rose and left. The invigorating tang of potent bol still warmed my mouth.

Somehow, the clear night sky gets me thinking. It reminds me of the night me and Sonea spied on the guild. Once again, I feel the familiar yearn of my heart, as I remember the feelings I held, for her and Savara.

I know that neither love is possible.

Guys like me have to be careful. A pining heart plagues your mind; it grows like a weed and obscures it. It leaves you at risk. No matter how much my heart objected, I would always have this emptiness inside me.

I felt something hard thud against my chest. For a moment I'd let my guard drop. In one swift movement, I gripped my daggers and held them firmly down at my attacker's neck.

A sharp prick against my throat alerted me of the stalemate, the cool feel of metal soothed my hot skin, glimmering with fine beads of sweat.

I glanced down at my attacker, and met her eyes. Her bewildered expression showed that she had also let down her guard. The holes inside me welled up at once as a smile crossed her smooth Elyne features.

Third time lucky?


	2. Dorrien: Admiring from a Distance

**A/n: **Poor ol' Dorrien eh? He doesn't know about the little Akkarin spawn! Hehehe! .

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**Dorrien  – Admiring from a distance.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary: **All's fair in love and war, and Akkarin proves a more than worthy opponent.

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From the moment Dorrien laid eyes on her he'd known she was something special.

Love always acted in strange ways, it appeared from friendship, hate and jealousy. It forced itself on complete strangers, blossomed amongst the newly acquainted, and slowly ate a way at you when you parted.

Four days travel, treacherous conditions and heaps of work had always kept him from visiting the guild, but only after he'd met Sonea did he feel sorrow, even regret, for this.

He'd always known someone would sweep her off her feet before she had a chance to graduate and join him in the menial countryside tasks, healing Gorin and the occasional fever or working injury.

He'd lived in hope – perhaps unfairly – that she wouldn't meet anyone, or that he would be able to woo her back to his arms.

Now he knew that wasn't possible.

As soon as he'd seen them…

She lay so peaceful in his arms; glee was evident in all her features despite what she'd been through. She looked happy.

There was no way he could beat him to her love. Disgraced or not, Akkarin would always hold her heart; and that was something he admired.

Now, even in death; the man was a formidable opponent. It was impossible to pry her away from the him.

The least he could do now was look over and protect her.

He had to feel sorry for her. She had nothing to live for. Every day she would turn up to the hospital and sift through patients carefully and kindly, but he could see there was something missing.

Occasionally he observed a red glint on her finger as she tirelessly sealed up the wounds of a careless or mischievous child. She looked at the ring hopefully as if she expected some sort of ghostly calling from beyond the grave.

The dwells just looked at her curiously; they would never understand what he noticed.

Her wounds could not be healed as quickly as theirs.


	3. Akkarin & Lorlen: Together we fall

**A/n:** This chapter actually shows an insite to more characters than initially intended...but I decided to dedicate it to Akkarin and Lorlen. It is considerably longer than the other two...

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**Akkarin & Lorlen – Together we fall.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary: **A true friendship will always survive, no matter what threatens it.

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It had been nearly three years since she'd first visited this cemetery for the first time. Remembering those times made the edge of her lip curl upwards into something that resembled a smile.

Five new graves now lay here; each one had been given special permission by the higher magicians.

One by one she addressed them, the mere sight of them bringing back unwanted memories, but she let them. She regarded individually the polished white marble that had been chosen to form the ominous looking headstones.

Lord Makin. His courageous attempts at the North fort had not been forgotten. Despite his fear, he'd acted bravely and calmly in a battle no one could have expected him to win. There was no body beneath the mound of fresh earth, they hadn't been able to retrieve it. It was decided that he deserved remembering as much as any, and so here lay a collection of his prized possessions.

Next to him lay Lord Yikmo. The bold vin, respected by all and admired for his ability to manage even the most troublesome novices. His death had been valiant, refusing to leave the world before completing his mission as effectively as possible.

Sonea winced her eyes together tightly to stop the tears. He'd willing ridden to his death a long with many others that day. She would always remember the kindness with which he treated her, and could never forget the smile he gave her when she emerged from her challenge with Regin victorious.

To his left lay Lord Sarrin. She had never really met the head of alchemist, but on learning of his task she felt yet more sympathy for this man. To be elected unwillingly into learning something he strongly disagreed with must have been horrible, but worse, the weight and expectation put on him by the entire guild. They'd announced him as the only hope for the allied lands. What a burden to give him.

How he must have felt on the dawn of battle, watching the seven strongest magicians he had ever seen stride confidently towards the city as he realised he'd failed his task, and perhaps allowed the death of thousands of innocents.

A pang of guilt dwelled in Sonea's chest. If she had obeyed Akkarin and stayed…She pushed the thought aside before it could develop into one of the many arguments she now had in her own head.

Lorlen was next. Ever since the truth read he'd looked out for her. She regretted not being able to tell him Akkarin's secrets; but that was something that the pair had to resolve for themselves.

She remembered how Lorlen had wished that he hadn't seen the secret, and how _he'd _regretted knowing something so damning about his friend. Even through hatred and anger, Lorlen had always remained hopeful of Akkarin's innocence.

The brilliant black marble of Akkarin's headstone made him stand out from the rest, understandably so. It lay less than a metre from Lorlen's. Despite falling apart over the last few years of their life, they lay together now. She was sure that they regretted the things that had happened between them, and she knew that they had remained looking out for each other.

Here they lay together; united.

"Master?" A pair of hands outstretched, wrists upwards, holding a bouquet of freshly picked flowers. The broad sachakan features of Takan were understandably sullen.

She grasped the flowers and gently laid them across her love's grave before turning to Takan, "I am not your master. Akkarin wanted you to be free. I cannot take that from you."

Still Sonea fought to hold in her tears, crying was for the weak. She had promised herself she wouldn't.

"But who will look after you?" Takan pressed, "And the young master?"

Finally, Sonea burst, torrents of warm liquid streaming continuously down her cheeks. It relieved her to finally let her bottled up emotions out, but she knew her composure would be near impossible to regain.


	4. Dannyl & Tayend: Moonlighting

**A/n:** Personally, I don't think this chapter went as well as the rest...It's short, and possibly a bit disjointed...We'll see... ...Oh well, FLUFF!

Also, in hindsight. Tayend is an awesome character. :)

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**Dannyl & Tayend – Moonlighting.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary: **Dannyl finds his new assistant more than adequate, and not just as a secretary...

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Dannyl sent out a small burst of magic, pushing open the door to his office. He was struck instantly by the uncanny sense of logic and order that had taken over the place.

It hadn't been left this way the previous night; in fact, quite the contrary. He smiled at the man sitting behind his desk, his new assistant.

"You're meant to be a secretary," Dannyl mussed, stepping forwards and placing his palms down on the desk.

"Assistant," Tayend corrected, "Besides, I had nothing better to do!"

Chuckling Dannyl leaned forward and pecked the man's cheek, "Where would I be without you…"

"Dead. Halfway up a mountain." Tayend stated bluntly, returning Dannyl's smile and leaning back in the chair.

"So how have you arranged it?"

Tayend shot up straight, taking pride as he gestured to various features of the desk, beginning with a pile of letters, "These are for top priority letters, and any that are in need of an urgent reply…" he continued pointing to different files, folders and stacks stating their purposes, "…and finally, the guild seal!" He grinned, resting his elbows on the table so that the pair's faces were inches apart, "Oh, and Dem Kepplar has something he wants you to discuss, he asked you to pay him a visit."

Raising a finger and pressing it softly over Tayend's mouth, Dannyl leaned forward to bridge the gap between their hungry lips.


	5. Rothen: The Night Room

**A/n: **Well here's Rothen...I was asked to do one for Akkarin...I might do that...If so, then 2 left...I think...We'll see! XD. Look at the teeny summary. )

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**Rothen  – The Night Room.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary: **Old habits die hard.

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It had taken a while for it to sink in, 'Head of Alchemic Studies'. The idea seemed all too grand to be true…

In fact it was Yaldin who had made the title really sink in. Rothen had instinctively made towards his favourite seat in the Guild Hall that night, what he liked to think of as a hot spot for eaves dropping. Yaldin however, had brought him to his senses with a sharp jerk of his arm and a point at the terrace of seats reserved for the higher magicians.

He looked grimly over the array of people in the hall, his new seat was a great vantage point, but magicians were always very cautious of what they said in front of the higher magician's seats.

The same mundane conversations repeated before his eyes as people posed questions of Sonea's well being to Lady Vinara and insisted that she give her their best wishes.

It seemed like nothing interesting had happened within the guild these last few days, the rumours and discussions concerning his two novices had been completely saturated, nothing remained but some minor cases of disapproval.

Resigned that nothing further of interest would come, he began to relax in his seat and settle down.

That was until an alchemist burst in, had a quick and frantic look around and then darted for the collection of magicians in front of Rothen. He stopped, panting for breath as he met eyes with Lord Peakin.

"Lord Devin's weather tower…" he stuttered through bated breath, "…it has collapsed!" He continued frantically.

A wry smile came to Rothen's aging face; he had to force himself to suppress the snorted laughter that was welling up inside him. After Lord Devin's death, the guild had been stumped as of what to do with the construction; it seemed now that the decision had been made for them.

Rothen observed Lord Peakin's face pale slightly and a frown bridging the gaps between his eyebrows, "Do not worry," he sighed after a few moments of silent contemplation, "We'll sort this out tomorrow."


	6. Akkarin: Gone but not forgotten

**A/n: **Bleugh! I really struggled to write this one. Yet again I'm not sure it went so well...I may need to rewrite it! .

...Oh yeah. On my edit of this, I struggle with the fact that I haven't read the BMT for a good few years... So I have a sentence: "He put his mind away from the poem". I have no idea what that's meant to mean. So I'm going to leave it in, because maybe it actually means something. :P

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**Akkarin – Gone but not forgotten.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary:** Even the bravest have fears.

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It is said that when you are close to death you become delirious, that your mind becomes hysterical, so desperate to stay alive that it no longer concentrates on the more important tasks, but forces images of the things you love, the things you do not want to leave behind. Some people like to say that 'Their life flashes before them'.

Akkarin's eyes widened. The blade had been so sharp that no pain had been inflicted, just the peculiar cold, itching sensation that happens in such situations.

He fell down slowly, holding his breath. As he took in a gasp of air, a wave of pain came over him and he struggled to regulate his breaths into a steady rhythm.

His body desperately tried to savie him, sending blood rapidly to the place of incision trying to clot it, but with his heart in such a state, there was little it could do.

His head span as he stared up into her eyes, he wanted to scream 'I love you', he wanted to beg her not to leave him; but that was unfair on her. He had to save her first. He'd travelled, he'd seen the world. Sonea had had no such opportunities. He wanted her to graduate, he wanted her to help the dwells, and gain people's trust. He wanted her to live.

Reaching out to her, he channelled his energy into her, not stopping. All of it would be necessary.

He regretted it instantly.

She left his side straight away, and he felt empty inside. He had condemned himself to death; he had lost his second love.

He took his mind away from the poem and focussed on her. He pictured her in his mind, a radiant beauty, everything he could have wanted and more.

His body went cold and limp, finally freeing him from the suffering. He managed one final sentence, "Sonea, I love you, Sonea…"


	7. Balkan: Leader of the Pack

**A/n:** Lord Balkan...Well this one actually came to me really easily! Haha! Took me only 15 minutes, with distractions! XD That has to be a personal best or something! Anywho! Last chapter! Thought I'd end with the high lord him being the most important member of the guild and all...

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**Balkan  – Leader of the pack.**

**By **_Puff the magic dragon567_

K

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**Summary: **As the figure at the centre of the guild, it is brought to one's attention how helpless it actually is.

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The task of leading the Imardin clean up operation was always going to be a tough one. So many people were suffering from the battle. There were some magicians who locked themselves in their rooms and only allowed their servants to enter.

Of course, that was only in the most severe cases.

As a whole, the guild seemed to be healing well; but Balkan knew as well as any that the scars would always remain, even if buried in the subconscious part of the mind.

Becoming High Lord had not been a complete surprise. He had been the only magician nominated for the post, and everyone had agreed with the decision. Now it was his job to lead by example.

He strained as he forced his magic to raise large pieces of rubble onto the cart that had been prepared. The upper class families were yet to return, and with the Inner Circle in such a state he could understand why. The merchants and labourers had flocked back. They leapt at the opportunity to earn some money in the clear up operation; competition was becoming fierce, and prices a good deal more reasonable as the weeks went on.

Balkan brushed down his robes with a cough, he cursed to himself as the dust left dull brown stains on parts of the shining white that had been unanimously elected as the new colour insignia of the high lord.

Lord Osen tilted his head and sighed, "I think that's enough for you High Lord," he remarked courteously, "You've been working for well over seven hours…You need to rest." A look of genuine concern crossed his face.

The high lord nodded slowly, "I'm just trying to make up for the lack of magical help."

Osen raised his head to assess the rubble, "I don't think you alone can do that. They need time…" He watched as a pair of men, obviously previously employed at the dock, shifted another piece of rubble onto the almost fully loaded cart, "There is no better medicine than time…"

Balkan sighed, futilely trying to clear the dull musky brown from his robes again, "But time is not on our side. Soon we will be the target of frustration; we're already dealing with a lot from the houses!" He sighed, high lord was not an enjoyable title at times like these, "I'm not sure how long the guild will stay in existence at this rate…Think about it, we give away so many lives and inflict so much damage for it, only for the houses to refuse to fund it. It only needs us to fall out of favour with the king, then there's nothing we can do."

"You'll find a way…"

"I regret to say that this is beyond the power that I possess. I fear that all I can do now is hope."


End file.
